Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving – my favorite holiday – is nearly here again. I love the simplicity of it – that all you have to do to celebrate it is gather with your loved ones and eat a lot of food (this part I have begun to appreciate more over the past couple of years, especially once I realized that turkey is, in fact, delicious). You’re basically just celebrating being part of this earth – and giving thanks that you get to do it with people you love.
Life over here in the Kyrgyz Republic has been more difficult lately. I’ve heard older volunteers say that, perhaps besides the first month at site, this is the toughest part of Peace Corps service. I’ve been here long enough to hone my language skills and cultural understanding; I can conduct decent lessons and get kids to behave; I know where to find good pizza, omelets, and Kyrgyz specialties like pumpkin samosas and lagman. I’m not a complete retard anymore, which is (obviously) a good thing…but I’ve also reached a point where, although I recognize and (for the most part) respect the culture in which I’m living, I understand that I will never be a real part of it. I’m like Long Duck Dong in Sixteen Candles. I am still welcomed, yes, but usually relegated to a corner after initial greetings. That, or am peppered with questions that seem to be getting increasingly personal (revolving around my love life [and how they can affect it] and salary [and why I’m taking Kyrgyz people’s jobs – which, I might add, I most certainly am not]). And, on most days, I don’t mind satisfying their curiosity. I know how much of an oddity I am…and to be perfectly honest, they all seem to me like delightful oddities themselves. But, after a while, it just wears me down, especially after a long day teaching in a cold classroom to rambunctious teenagers and dealing with progressively annoying school administrators. I have a newly deep respect for the immigrant – that person who chooses to leave home and try to make a permanent new one somewhere else. It’s hard to adapt, no matter how much you like your new culture. Old habits and customs die hard.
But, this is a holiday, after all, of giving thanks, of remembering that things aren’t really as bad as you might let yourself think. So I’m going to be cheesy for a moment and recant all the things that I have to be thankful for in this place.

I’m thankful for coffee, that warm, bitter beverage that helps me greet the day – something that becomes even more necessary when the sun doesn’t decide to come up until I’m supposed to be on my way to school. Also, thanks to Starbucks for not being completely serious when they say that you should use coffee by a certain date; I’m drinking stuff that I was supposed to consume about 4 months ago and it still tastes alright to me.
I’m thankful that donkeys can reproduce, because baby donkeys are oddly adorable.
I’m thankful that teenagers around the world are pretty much the same cocky but insecure creatures the world over. This means that I can have a lot of fun in the classroom, that it’s ok if I laugh at my students when they do dumb stuff because they laugh at me when I do dumb stuff, too. And I often milk this dynamic to get them interested in lessons. All I have to do is give an example about a boy liking a girl or explain some of the finer points of 50 Cent or Justin Timberlake’s lyrics and am sure to get a laugh out of them. This is especially helpful when I find myself reviewing the same grammar point again and again (Honestly, I get that things like articles are difficult to grasp because your native language doesn’t have them, but how hard is it to remember that simple present tense verbs need an ‘s’ on the end for 3rd person singular? Or that the past tense of ‘sleep’ is not ‘sleeped’?)
I’m thankful for packages and letters, for those little tangible bits of home that the global postal service manages to cart halfway around the world for me. I’m particularly glad about a recent discovery I made about the nature of Kraft Macaroni and Cheese: you don’t actually have to boil the noodles, you can just pour boiling water into a mug and let the noodles sit for a while; and as long as you eat it immediately, you don’t even need milk or butter for the cheese sauce. These findings have greatly improved the quality of my lunches this week.
I’m thankful that I sometimes get out of school for the day for strange reasons, like, oh I don’t know, Russian Cosmonaut Day and Women’s Day…and for downright ridiculous reasons, like last week, when I discovered that my host mom had locked me inside the house with no chance of escape (my initial playing-hooky-esque excitement was soon dimmed by the silvery, persistent tingle no doubt caused by that blasted 3rd cup of coffee).
I’m thankful for those individuals responsible for the existence of things like Barf brand laundry detergent, t-shirts that proclaim “Just Pukedd” or “Sometimes Everyone Needs a Little Puta (which means ‘bitch’ in Spanish), and wall hangings which depict landscapes that look something like I’d imagine a Photoshop-addicted miniature golfer’s fantasy to be. Lots of gazebos, whimsical bridges, waterfalls, flower fields, and the occasional herd of cows crammed into the same 3’x4’ poster. Sightings of things like these never fail to bring a smile to my face.
I’m thankful that humans have a kind of gypsy wanderlust encoded into their DNA. Otherwise, why else would anyone want to leave the comfort of home to go anywhere at all?
Mostly, though, I’m thankful for those people who have supported me through this endeavor in Kyrgyzstan and all the endeavors before it. I’m pretty sure I’d have cracked by now if I didn’t have your support, whether through newsy emails, junk-food-filled packages, or way-to-go letters. You all rock so hard you could give Jimmy Page and Mick Jagger a run for their money. Take care of yourselves during this holiday season. I’ll miss each of you but look forward to that time – which isn’t so far away, actually – when we can celebrate things like Thanksgiving and Christmas together.

Terri